Owned by the Italian Mafia Don: Chapter 16

I ripped my stitches when Rosie left the office. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Now my healing time is going to take longer, and this nurse is too forward. I don’t want her touching me like this. It makes my skin crawl and my stomach roll with guilt as if I’m cheating on Rosie.

A woman who fucking hates me, but I’m loyal. I won’t fuck around on my wife.

The nurse’s hand slides down my chest, lower and lower until my anger gets the best of me, and I snatch her wrist, tossing it to the side.

“Do not touch me like that anymore,” I growl in warning. “You are here to stitch up my shoulder. Nothing more. Nothing less. I am married. I will not sleep with you. I want nothing to do with you. The only thing I want from you is to get the fuck out of my house and never come back.”

“Mr. Milazzo—” she begins, probably to give a lame excuse.

I hold up my hand to stop her. “Get out. I do not want you. I haven’t shown I want you. Your attempts are not wanted. I’m not sure how much more obvious I can be. Matias!” I bark for my brother and the nurse hurries to gather her belongings. The door swings open and Matias is standing there. “Escort her off the property, please. She’s banished and is not welcome to come back. If she tries—” I lock eyes with her as she lifts her bag onto her shoulder “—Proceed with deadly force.”

“You heard the man,” Matias says, snagging her by her arm and dragging her to the front door.

When she’s out of the room I hang my head, rolling it over my shoulders, then stretching it left and right, letting out a groan when it pops. That nurse was stressful and more inconvenient than this damn bullet wound in my shoulder.

“She’s gone, Ari,” Matias informs me, and I nod, rubbing my eyes.

“Thank you.”

“What was that all about? She seemed nice enough.”

“She kept throwing herself at me. It’s unprofessional. I don’t want her touch.” I rotate the wedding band on my finger, thinking about the one woman I do want and can’t seem to have.

“Yeah, you’re going to want to go talk to Rosie. She seemed pretty upset when she was in the kitchen earlier and overheard the nurse giggling as if you were the funniest man alive.”

“Fuck. It was nothing like that. I swear. I wanted nothing to do with that nurse.”

“I know that. I told her that, but I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. She seemed sad at the idea of you with the nurse.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” I try to say lightheartedly but the hurt or hopelessness seems to fracture the delivery.

“It’s true. She stayed in the kitchen for a while, just listening to what was going on in here. From the outside, it sounded like exactly what she thought. I knew better and I tried to tell her that for you.

“I appreciate it, Matias.”

“Really. Go to her. I’m going to go find Gianni. Have a good night, brother.”

“You too,” I say, watching him go.

All I can hear now is my own breathing and as I study the room, my attention falls to the cracked window from the chair I threw, which is currently lying in pieces outside.

My entire body aches and my eyes sting with exhaustion, but I won’t go to bed until I talk to my wife. My curious, stubborn, hard-headed, impossible, slightly aggravating, beautiful wife. I wouldn’t have her any other way, but I wish she’d trust me just a little.

Thinking about the nurse and how her hand drifted down my front, my cock didn’t even stir, but the thought of Rosie doing that, trusting me enough to take a chance on me has arousal searing my veins.

Matias is right. I need to go talk to her.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I don’t know when it got so late, but I rub my eyes, not wanting to sleep until I kiss my wife for the first time.

Jesus, I can’t believe we haven’t even kissed. It wasn’t part of the deal, and she doesn’t have to, but god, I want to feel her lips beneath mine so much that my chest pains with need. I walk out of the room; the living room and kitchen are quiet. There’s a steady drip of water coming from the faucet, and I walk to the sink to make sure it’s off.

That’s when I see the water glass in the sink, a ghost imprint of her lips are on the rim. I pick it up, knowing the print was probably left behind from the ChapStick I always see her putting on. I never thought I’d be jealous of a glass but here I am, wanting to break the inanimate object because her lips touched it.

I’m fucking ridiculous.

I put the glass back in the sink and head down the hall to where our room is but stop just outside the door when I hear sniffling. Placing my ear against the wood, I listen.

I hear sobs.

The kind that shakes the ground beneath your feet with how much pain is being released with each tear that falls.

I press my forehead against the door, wondering when I’ve ever felt so helpless. I’ve been in situations where I’ve shot, killed, stolen, and tortured, yet all those things don’t compare to this. I don’t know how to help this situation. I can’t kill anyone or do anything to make her feel better.

I stand here, listening to her cry, feeling out of my element.

I don’t know how to make this good for her. I’m going to guess her pain is because of me, because of losing her family and being tied to me. There’s a voice in the back of my head that says let her go. Give her a new identity and send her to be with her brother. It would be easy. I could easily plan for that. I did it for her parents and Caplan; why wouldn’t I be able to do it for her too?

Because I don’t want to.

I’m a selfish bastard and I want her. She’s mine. She belongs here with me. I know she does.

Sending her away doesn’t promise her safety but being with me does.

I place my hand on the doorknob and twist, only to find it locked. I frown, then reach into my back pocket and pull out my wallet, managing to slide a card out. I slide it into the crevice where the lock is and press it, jiggling it up and down until I’m able to push the door open.

And what I see has me fuming and panicking.

She’s packing.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I raise my voice as I slam the door behind me, locking it so no one can come in and ask what’s going on.

“I’m getting out of here. I’m done. I’m taking this stupid fucking stone and I’m leaving. I don’t care what it costs me. You don’t need me,” she says through a watery explanation, her throat becoming clogged as she tosses t-shirts and panties in the suitcase.

“You aren’t leaving me.” In less than five large strides I’m in front of her, grabbing her arm so she can’t pack the bag anymore. “You can’t leave me.”

“The hell I can’t.” She tries to rip out of my hold, but I hold on tight. “Watch me.”

“I won’t be watching anything because you won’t be leaving. We made a deal.”

“Screw your deal!” she shouts, shaking her head as she continues to disappear into the closet only to come out with more stuff in her hands.

I snag the shirts away from her and hold them in the air.

“Don’t be like this. Just let me go,” she says tiredly, trying to reach the shirts as I hold them above her head. “Ari.”

“No. Not until you explain to me what happened. You aren’t leaving me.” I toss the shirts as hard as I can across the room and growl. “You. Can’t. Leave me,” I roar, pounding my chest as if I’m some sort of animal.

She lifts her hands in the air. “Why are we even fighting, Ari? We are fighting like a real married couple. We aren’t a real married couple. There is no reason to fight like this. We hardly know one another. I think this deal had good intentions but we both knew it wouldn’t work out in the end.”

“We are married. This is real. You think this—” I walk over to the dresser and pluck the stone to hold it in the air. “You think this will save you? Do you think this will protect you? It will get you killed even if you sell it. It is nothing. It is worthless when it is compared to your life. Do you want to know why this is wanted by Bianchi? Do you?”

I don’t give her time to answer.

“It’s an uncut black diamond. One this size goes for millions, Rosie. This isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card. It will kill you. The people who want this will stop at nothing to make sure you’re dead, your family is dead, and everything around you is ruined. And it probably doesn’t stop at Bianchi wanting to find you. If anyone knows, if anyone sees you with it, they will try to take it from you. It isn’t worth it. You want millions? I have it. I’ll give it to you.” I toss the diamond on the bed, and she gasps, watching as it flies through the air, and lands safely on the mattress.

There was a moment of fear in her eyes when she thought it wouldn’t be safe. Even I wouldn’t destroy a stone this valuable, no matter how much I want to at this moment.

“I don’t want your money,” she whispers, staring at me with those fucking eyes I’m obsessed with. A tear breaks free and rolls down her cheek. “I don’t care about your money, Ari.”

“Then what? What do you care about? At this point, I’m wondering if you care about anything at all. You hate me, right? You can’t fucking stand me. Do you wish you never signed the contract? Am I that bad, Rosie? Just tell me and I can move on.”

“You’ve already seemed to do that,” she spits hatefully and then covers her mouth as if she didn’t mean to say that. “Never mind.” Rosie tries to walk by me to get to the closet and I lift her suitcase from the end of the bed and empty it on the floor.

“No. No more packing. No more running away from me. What did you mean by that? Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I wrap an arm around her waist and spin her arm, yanking her to me until our bodies collide. A soft puff of air escapes her from the collision and her eyes slowly drag up my body until they latch onto my face.

Fuck.

I do love it when she looks at me like that. It’s the one time I get to see how she wants me. When all the walls come crumbling down and all that’s left is sexual tension.

“It matters. It matters to me.”

“I don’t hate you,” she begins, still trying to wiggle free of my hold. “It’s impossible to hate you, Ari. I’ve tried and I realized I wasn’t even mad at you but at myself. You don’t understand how life has been for me. It’s been a constant fight. I’ve worked myself to the bone. I’ve sacrificed everything for everyone and not once have I ever done anything for myself. So you were my outlet for all my rage.” The end of her sentence is drowned out by anger. “And I’ve realized that I’m done being used and walked all over. I’m done. I have no more fight left in me, Ari. So just let me go so you can get on with your life. Worrying about me is the last thing you need to do and the last thing you want to do. You have other priorities and that’s fine.” She presses her hand against her chest as if she can understand my position and responsibilities.

“My only priority is you,” I state and the fight that was gone just got ignited because a storm is brewing fast in those blue irises.

And I’m on the receiving end of whatever destruction she will bring.